


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by lostinafictionalworld



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, I just really want everybody to be happy, New Years, Spoilers for Season 2, like the most toothrotting fluff I have written, tiny dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinafictionalworld/pseuds/lostinafictionalworld
Summary: After returning to Scotland, Claire and Jamie celebrate a quiet Christmas at Lallybroch. Set mid season 2.





	1. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

It was an early evening in mid December and the sun was almost down as I sat on the sofa, enjoying the warmth from the fire. After all the pain and heartache that had happened in France, it was so wonderful to be home at Lallybroch with Jenny and Ian and their growing family. Little Maggie had just come tottering in and crawled into my lap. While she happily entertained herself with the shirt I had been mending, I carded my fingers through the soft, fine strands of her hair, humming quietly to myself.

I heard the front door creak open and Jamie swept into the room with a flurry of snowflakes and a gust of wind. He came to stand behind me, leaning over the back of the sofa. I could feel the cold radiating off of him.

“What’s that yer humming there, mo nighean donn?” Noticing my ministrations to Maggie’s hair, he started to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of my neck that had escaped from their pins. His fingertips were cold against my skin and I shivered slightly at the touch.

“Just a Christmas song,” I replied, tipping my head back to look up at him. He had that thoughtful, focused look on his face that he always got when he was processing new information.

“Do people sing lots of songs around Christmastime, then? In the future?” He placed a kiss on my forehead, then circled around the sofa to sit next to me. Maggie put out her arms to reach for him, so he took her from my lap and bounced her gently on his knee.

“Yes, they get quite festive about it. There are lots of songs on the radio for people to listen to, and some people go out caroling and sing together in groups. And during the war the men, the Americans especially, liked to sing songs in camp to keep their spirits up.” I could tell from his face that he had lots of questions, and I wondered which he would ask first.

“Will ye sing for me?” he asked finally, almost shyly.

“What, now?” I asked, surprised by the request.

“Aye. If ye dinna mind, that is. I hear ye humming all manner of songs all the time, but I havena heard ye sing afore.”

“Well, the only songs I know are from the future,” I explained. “At first I thought it was better not to sing any aloud to keep people from asking complicated questions. I guess I just got in the habit of keeping them to myself. ”

“Aye, I suppose that’s reasonable,” he allowed, but then a playful gleam came into his eyes. “But it just doesna seem verra fair that practically half this country has heard ye sing, Sassenach, and I, yer husband, havena. Even Murtagh says ye have a bonny voice.”

“Murtagh actually said that?”

“Aye, I did,” Murtagh said, tramping inside with Fergus close behind him. The two of them moved to stand close to the fire. “But if ye recall, I also said if I never hear that bloody song again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Wheesht,” Jamie ordered. “Ye dinna have to listen.”

“I will listen,” Fergus volunteered eagerly. “Will you sing for us, Milady?”

“Well, I suppose I can’t refuse at this point,” I said with a bemused smile. “But I won’t sing the one you’re thinking of, Jamie, if only to keep Murtagh from strangling me. And I did promise someone I’d never sing it again once I found you. But I will sing something else.”

“What’s this now?” Jenny asked, coming down the stairs with little Katherine balanced on her hip. Ian appeared a moment later with wee Jamie on his heels.

“Claire’s going to sing for us,” Murtagh informed them, settling expectantly into an armchair despite his earlier protestations.

“Are ye now?” Jenny asked, her voice tinged with surprise. “What song?” I was suddenly very aware of my rapidly growing audience. Even after all those weeks on stage, I was still a touch nervous about performing, especially now since I wasn’t prepared.

“What about the one ye were humming just now?” Jamie prompted gently, noting my anxiousness. “Would that do?” I gave him a small smile.

“I don’t actually know the words to that one,” I admitted ruefully. It had been _Carol of the Bells_ , one of my favorites, but I had never gotten around to learning more than the first few lines. I quickly wracked my brains for a Christmas song that I could remember all the way through.

“I think I have a suitable one,” I said finally. I cleared my throat a bit, then started.

_Sleigh bells ring_  
_Are you listening_  
_In the lane_  
_Snow is glistening_  
_A beautiful sight_  
_We’re happy tonight_  
_Walking in a winter wonderland…_

The children all applauded gleefully when I finished.

“That’s a bonny tune,” was Jenny’s only comment. I didn’t know whether or not she knew I was from the future, but I knew she at least had her suspicions that my story wasn’t all it seemed. I made a mental note to tell her sometime soon; Murtagh knew and I felt at this point there was no harm in telling her as well. Ian, I think, didn’t care either way but had merely accepted my eccentricities as merely that.

“Will you sing another?” Fergus requested immediately.

“I suppose I could do one more,” I agreed with a smile. I really had missed the music of my time. After a few moments of consideration, I started the next song.

_You better watch out_  
_You better not cry_  
_You better not pout_  
_I’m telling you why_  
_Santa Claus is coming to town…_

This song was received with blank stares.

“Who’s Santa Claus?” wee Jamie asked, his head cocked to one side. I blinked.

“It’s another name for St. Nicholas,” I explained. More blank stares. 

“Father Christmas?” I tried again. “He brings gifts to children on Christmas.”

“Oh, _Père Noël_!” Fergus exclaimed with dawning comprehension. “ _Oui_. That’s why you leave a shoe by the fire on Christmas Eve.”

“A shoe?” I asked, askance. “Surely you mean a stocking.”

“No, a shoe,” he insisted.

“Oh, ye mentioned that to me once,” Jamie noted. “It’s to dry them out, aye?”

“No, no,” Fergus explained, sounding rather scandalized that no one but me seemed to have any idea about any of this. “You leave a _shoe_ by the fireplace and Père Noël leaves sweets or fruit or a small toy for you.”

“What a strange tradition,” Jamie interrupted, steering the conversation back towards safer territory. “How about another song, Sassenach?”

0 0 0

“I never did thank ye before,” Jamie said later that night when we had retired to our room. I was sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, leaning back against Jamie’s knees as he sat in one of the chairs and removed the numerous pins that held my hair in place.

“What for?”

“For singing. You do have a bonny voice. Truly. So thank ye.”

“It was my pleasure,” I assured him. He worked the last few pins from my hair and it finally tumbled loose. He ran his fingers through it, gently untangling the thick curls. 

“Will ye tell me more about Christmas?” he asked after a several minutes of silence.

“Is it really so different?” I asked. “I know the popularization of Santa Claus and such is a more modern occurrence, but surely traditions haven’t changed all that much.”

“Christmas has been banned in Scotland for near on a hundred years,” Jamie replied seriously. “The Kirk disapproves of such things.”

I suddenly had a vague recollection of learning that Cromwell had banned Christmas for a time back in the 1600s and that even in the 20th century the Scots still worked on Christmas. As I had lived my whole life observing Christmas, those details had simply slipped my mind.

“So you don’t do anything to celebrate?” I asked, wanting to clarify.

“We acknowledge it quietly. The birth of Christ is important, after all, but it’s more of a serious contemplation, no what you’d call a celebration. Ye can even get in trouble for going to Mass. So what is it that ye do in the future? Besides sing songs, that is?”

“Well, people often decorate for the season with wreaths and ribbons and candles. And we put up Christmas trees in our homes and decorate them with colored lights and baubles.”

“A tree?” Jamie asked. “A tree inside the house?”

“Yes. It’s a tradition brought over from Germany. Prussia, I mean. People get each other gifts, wrap them in paper, and put them under the tree. Then they exchange them on Christmas day. Most people also do a special meal in the evening as well.”

“And this Santa Claus,” he asked, “does he really bring gifts to children?”

“No, that’s just a story for the children, really. It’s actually just the parents who leave the presents and put treats in the stockings for their children…” My voice faltered to a stop as I was struck with the sudden painful remembrance that this should have been our first Christmas with our child. 

Jamie noticed my distress and instantly knew the cause of it. He slid to the floor beside me and pulled me close against his chest. I turned and buried my face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh, Claire,” he said softly, his voice rough with grief. He rubbed my back in soothing circles. “Oh, mo ghraidh. We may one day yet share Christmas with our own wee bairns. One day.”

It took me a long while to collect myself enough to continue, but eventually I did. I talked late into the night, telling Jamie all about my memories of Christmas in another time.

0 0 0

The days passed quickly just as they always did. The men worked outside, tending the livestock, fixing tools, and making repairs. Jenny and I stayed in, sewing, doing laundry, and minding the children. Before I knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived. 

It was late in the evening and Jamie and I were the last ones downstairs. The children had long since gone to bed and I could hear the retreating footsteps of Jenny, Ian, and Murtagh as they retired as well. I moved around the room extinguishing the candles as Jamie carefully banked the fire so it would still be burning in the morning.

“So, what will you be up to tomorrow?” I asked, trying to keep any hint of anticipation from my voice.

“The horses need to be re-shod, so I’ll most like be seeing to that,” was his only answer.

“Oh.” I blew out the last candle, throwing the room into near darkness so he couldn’t see the crestfallen look that was likely clear on my face. He could hear it in my voice anyway.

“I’m sorry, mo nighean donn,” he said, standing up from the fire and taking my hand to pull me to his side. “I dinna mean to disappoint ye. Christmas just isna something we’re accustomed to celebrating here. It’s just another workday for us.”

“I know. It’s fine, really,” I assured him. He pulled me closer to him and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll try my best to make it up to ye?” he suggested mischievously with a grin and his ridiculous attempt at a wink.

“I very much like the sound of that,” I said, standing up on my toes to kiss him. “There’s just one more thing I need to do first.”

I extricated myself from his embrace and went to retrieve the shoe I had seen Fergus surreptitiously place beside the fire early in the evening before going to bed. Then I took Jamie by the hand and led him upstairs.

Once in our bedchamber, I withdrew the basket of treats I had been amassing over the last week and spread its contents over the small table in the corner of the room. There were several small apples I had taken from the cellar and some small gingerbread cakes Mrs. Crook had helped me bake just that afternoon. Jamie watched me curiously as I divided the goodies into four piles, one for each of the children, and wrapped them neatly in handkerchiefs. Katherine was of course too young to eat her apple, but I thought she might enjoy playing with it all the same.

Next I retrieved a few small toys from my chest of clothes. For little Katherine I had made a small ragdoll out of some spare bits of cloth I had saved from Jenny’s and my sewing. The doll’s small dress would match Katherine’s newest one. For Maggie I had made a thaumatrope, a bouquet of flowers painstakingly painted on one side of the little wooden disk, an empty vase on the other. For Fergus’s and wee Jamie’s gifts, I had enlisted Ian’s help. He had happily agreed to whittle a spinning top for Jamie, as well as a small wooden cup on a stick so I could make Fergus a ball and cup toy.

“What’s this then?” Jamie asked curiously, picking up Maggie’s toy. The long strings dangled from either side as he examined both sides of the disk.

“It’s a thaumatrope,” I answered. His brow furrowed at the unfamiliar word. I took the toy from him figuring it would be easier to show him how it worked rather than try to explain it.

I held it out in front of him, one cord in each hand, and carefully rolled the strings between my fingers, causing the disk to spin back and forth along its horizontal axis. Jamie’s face lit up in delight and surprise as the two separate images blurred together, causing the flowers to appear in the vase.

“Ye can do magic!” he exclaimed. “An ye told me ye weren’t a witch.”

“I’m not a witch,” I insisted with mock offence. “I’m your wife. And it’s not magic at all, just a trick of the eye. The motion combines the two images, just as the world blurs together when you spin in circles.” I handed him the toy so he could try it himself. He had a look of childlike glee on his face as the two images spun together.

“Ye ken truly remarkable things, Sassenach,” he said when he finally handed it back to me. I thanked him with a kiss.

I neatly arranged Fergus’s gifts in his shoe, then unrolled two of my nicer pairs of stockings to use for the other children. Setting the spare one aside, I packed the three stockings and tied them shut with lengths of ribbon on which I had carefully stitched the children’s names.

“You don’t think Jenny will mind do you?” I asked, looking anxiously up at Jamie. “I don’t want her to think I’m spoiling the children or teaching them foolish English traditions or anything. It’s just that I wanted to do something for Fergus since this is a tradition for him too and I didn’t want the others to feel left out…” I trailed off as Jamie took me gently by the shoulders, his face softening.

“Oh, Claire, ye kind, kind woman. Ye’ll make such a wonderful mother some day. Jenny knows how much you care about those bairns. I dinna think she’ll mind at all.” He gave me a gentle hug, then released me and took up two of the stockings. “Now these get left by the fire, ye say?”

I nodded and the two of us tiptoed downstairs to lay the stockings and Fergus’s shoe carefully on top of the mantel for the children to open in the morning. Then Jamie produced my extra stocking and carefully hung it from the mantel, pinning the end under a candlestick.

“For you, mo nighean donn,” he explained with a small smile. Before I could say anything, he scooped me into his arms, holding me securely against his chest, and headed towards the stairs. “Now I believe I had some making up to ye to do.”

0 0 0

When I awoke the next morning, I was disappointed to find the other side of the bed cold and Jamie gone. I lay there a few minutes longer, hoping he would come back, before I finally roused myself and set about the tedious process of dressing myself.

When I finally finished, I stepped out into the hallway and almost collided with Fergus, who had been standing just outside my door.

“Merry Christmas, Fergus,” I said cheerily when I had recovered from my surprise.

“Merry Christmas, Milady.”

“Shall we go downstairs and find ourselves some breakfast?” I suggested.

“Milord has requested that you stay upstairs until he comes to get you,” Fergus replied sheepishly.

“Has he really?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“Please, Milady,” he implored. “I will wait with you.”

I relented and he followed me back into my room and sat down by the fire. I had left my hair down when I got dressed so he kindly offered to brush it for me while we waited.

We didn’t have to wait long before Jamie appeared at the door, a happy grin on his face.

“Ye can come downstairs now, Claire,” he announced grandly, taking me by the hand and leading me out into the hall. Fergus followed close behind us and Murtagh was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a warm smile and a heartfelt “Merry Christmas” for me.

The main room had been transformed. Evergreen boughs had been laid along the mantle and draped with red ribbon. A small wreath had been hung in each of the windows and candles stood on the windowsills. A tiny Christmas tree about three feet in height had even been placed in one corner and adorned with more ribbon. I turned to face Jamie, incredibly touched by his efforts.

“James Fraser, you wonderful man! Did you do all of this just for me?”

“Aye, with some help from Fergus,” he said shyly. “Did we get it right? Is this a bit like what ye were thinking?”

“It’s perfect!” I explained, tears coming to my eyes. “It’s better than I could have hoped for. Thank you, Jamie!” I flung my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. When I finally released him, I drew Fergus into a tight hug as well.

“Thank you, Fergus,” I said sincerely, gently cupping his face in my hands. “This is wonderful.”

We were interrupted a moment later as Jenny and Ian appeared with their children, who were just as delighted as I was by the decorations. 

“Merry Christmas, Claire,” Jenny said warmly, pulling me into a hug. “Jamie said Christmas was an important holiday for you, so thank ye for sharing it with us. And he said ye had a surprise for the bairns?”

“I do,” I announced with a smile. Once Jenny had gotten them settled on the sofa, I presented them with their stockings and Fergus with his shoe. They were absolutely delighted with their toys, though slightly disappointed when Jenny told them they had to wait until after breakfast to eat their gingerbread.

While they were happily distracted with their gifts, Jamie presented me with a stocking of my own.

“Oh, Jamie, you didn’t have to do all this!” I exclaimed, pulling into a hug once more. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“I ask myself the same of you every day,” Jamie countered, punctuating his response with a kiss. “Now open it.”

I opened the small bundle to find a gingerbread cake of my own, a new length of ribbon for my neck, and a small cake of soap that smelled of honeysuckle.

“Thank you, Jamie,” I said earnestly, overcome with emotion once more. He calmed me with a kiss and sat with me hugged to his chest until it was time for breakfast.

0 0 0

As Jamie had said the night before, there was still a regular day’s work ahead of us. Jamie went about his work with the horses and I with my washing and mending until we all gathered again for dinner.

At Jamie’s request, Mrs. Crook had prepared a delicious meal of rich stew and mashed potatoes and even special Yule bread, which I gathered was a tradition that had been banned. I worried that Jamie was taking a risk breaking the ban with these celebrations just for me, but he assured me that there would be no trouble.

When we had all finished eating and were comfortably full, we gathered around the hearth for a while. Ian brought out the family’s bible and solemnly read us the Christmas story. After a short prayer, he turned to me.

“Will ye sing us another of yer Christmas songs, Claire?” he requested. “We have all greatly enjoyed hearing them.”

“I would be delighted,” I agreed. I cleared my throat and began the song I had been saving for just this occasion.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
_Let your heart be light_  
_From now on, our troubles will be out of sight_  
_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
_Make the Yuletide gay_  
_From now on, our troubles will be miles away_

_Here we are as in olden days_  
_Happy golden days of yore_  
_Faithful friends who are dear to us_  
_Gather near to us once more_

_Through the years we all will be together_  
_If the fates allow_  
_So hang a shining star upon the highest bough_  
_And have yourself a merry little Christmas now…_

The room fell comfortably quiet when I had finished and we all sat for a long moment, enjoying each others’ company. Maggie finally announced the close of the evening with a wide yawn. Jenny and Ian stood and both gave me a warm hug before herding their sleepy children upstairs to bed. 

“Thank you for sharing Christmas with us, Milady,” Fergus said, giving me a tight squeeze.

“Thank you for helping make it a merry one,” I replied, ruffling his hair before directing him upstairs as well.

Even Murtagh surprised me with a hug.

“Thank ye, Claire,” he said gruffly. “I’m glad to have ye with us to bring us some joy.” He hurriedly retreated upstairs before I could reply.

Jamie and I were the last ones to withdraw upstairs to our room. He undressed quickly, then carefully helped me undo all of my laces and remove my multitude of layers until I was left only in my shift. 

He drew back the blankets on our bed and climbed in, pulling me down after him so I was spooned against him, my back pressed comfortably to his front. I turned my head over my shoulder to give him a deep kiss.

“Thank you, Jamie, for the most wonderful Christmas I could possibly imagine.” 

“And thank ye, Claire, for always finding new ways to show me that our life can be a happy one.” 

He kissed me again and I slowly drifted off to sleep, happy and safe in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas (a tad late, as ever)!! As always, these characters aren't my own. They belong to the brilliant Diana Gabaldon and are taken from her Outlander series and the Starz TV series based on it. I'm very new to the fandom and haven't read the books so I apologize for any inaccuracies. The show timeline doesn't seem to match up with the books so with lots of vague handwaving I have it set Christmas of 1744 after they come back from France and before the uprising. I researched as best as I could but I'm no expert on Scottish or English history, holidays, or religion, so I apologize if I got things wrong. If I can get my act together in time, I hope to do a second chapter of this for Hogmanay/New Years. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


	2. And a Happy New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie celebrate a festive Hogmanay at Lallybroch.

I was awoken on Boxing Day by Jamie as he gently tried to untangle his limbs from mine to get up. I grabbed at him sleepily, trying to pull him back into the warm comfort of the bed, but he dodged me easily with a laugh and stood up anyway.

“I think ye’d sleep forever, given the chance,” he teased. I could hear his joints pop as he stretched luxuriously. 

“Maybe,” I allowed with a smile. “but it’s not as pleasant without a giant Scot to keep me warm.” He merely grinned and leaned down to give me a kiss before setting about getting dressed. I propped myself up on one elbow to watch. Despite the countless times I had seen him do it, I never seemed to tire of watching the careful way he put on his kilt each morning, preparing himself for the day. It had been one of the small things I had missed while in France, his kilt all to often set aside for more courtly attire.

“So do you do anything for Boxing Day here?” I asked as Jamie spread out his plaid and began to pleat it neatly. “I thought lords and ladies of estates were supposed to give their servants the day off and gave them boxes of food and money as a thank you.”

“Aye, I’ve heard of such traditions for St. Stephen’s Day. But hereabouts we tend to favor first-footing. Or at least that’s how my father did it when I was a lad.” He finished with his pleats and lay down atop the fabric to wrap it around himself and belt it in place.

“First-footing? What’s that?”

“It’s traditional for Hogmanay,” he explained. “Or New Year’s Eve I suppose ye’d call it. Wait a few more days and I’ll tell ye all about it.” He stood and finished tucking in the ends of his kilt to his satisfaction, then pulled on his waistcoat and jacket. When he sat back on the bed to pull on his boots, I tried to pull him back under the covers.

“You could stay and tell me about it now,” I suggested, but he laughed and disentangled himself once more.

“There’s nothing more I’d love to do than stay in bed with ye forever, mo nighean donn, but there’s work to be done.” He walked to the door and turned back to look at me still buried under the blankets. “Now get dressed and come downstairs so I can at least have breakfast with ye before I go.”

0 0 0

On New Year’s Eve, I emerged downstairs to find the entire household in a whirlwind of activity. Jamie had already headed out to work with Ian and Murtagh, but Jenny was leading Mrs. Crook and the other servants in a massive cleaning of the entire house.

“What brought all this on?” I asked Jenny as I tucked into my bowl of porridge.

“Ye canna start a new year off with a dirty house,” she explained in the tone she always adopted when baffled by my ignorance of common things. “Ye have to start fresh. It’s tradition.”

As soon as I had finished eating, my bowl was whisked away to be scoured along with the rest of the kitchen and I was set to work as well. Jenny had me dusting and polishing every conceivable flat surface while she worked on scrubbing all of the windows until they gleamed. There were fireplaces to be emptied out, floors to be swept, linens to be changed, and a multitude of other tasks to be attended to before the day was done. I tried to enlist Fergus’s help as well, but he muttered something about women’s work and slipped outside to join the men when I wasn’t looking.

It was a long day and I was worn out, but by the time the sun dropped behind the horizon, the house was pristine, looking as clean and tidy as I had ever seen it. We finished just as the men were coming back in from their own labors.

“Back, all of ye!” Jenny scolded, swooping down on them as soon as they set foot in the house. “I just cleaned these floors and I willna have ye tracking mud back in.” They meekly retreated outside to stamp off their boots and were finally allowed back in.

Jamie greeted me with a kiss, the tip of his nose icy against my cheek.

“Ye look right knackered,” he teased when he withdrew far enough to get a good look at me. “Do ye think ye’ll make it through tonight?” Together we headed into the dining room for dinner.

“Oh, I’m staying up all right,” I said with determination. “I haven’t had trouble staying up until midnight since I was I child.”

“Aye, but we’ll be up a fair bit later than midnight. First-footing will take another few hours.”

“A few hours?” I asked incredulously. “What exactly is this tradition you keep mentioning?”

“Well, the first visitor of the new year, the first-foot, is supposed to bring luck for the coming year. I always used to go around with my father after midnight to visit all the tenants. It does take a long while, but it’s good fun.”

“Well it certainly looks like we have quite the night ahead of us.”

We all tucked into a delicious meal of steak pie and roast potatoes which was very welcome after a long day of work. Everyone was in high spirits, even more so than they had been at Christmas. Jenny had been generous when pouring our wine and Ian seemed determined to keep our glasses topped off. The children were especially delighted by the black buns and honey balls that were served for dessert.

After we were all comfortably full, we moved into the living room and settled around the fire to relax and wait out the rest of the night. I found myself on the sofa sandwiched between Jamie and Fergus while Ian and Murtagh settled into armchairs. Jenny disappeared briefly to put Katherine to bed before returning to her own chair with wee Jamie in her lap. Even the two dogs, Bran and Luke came in to join us, sprawled contentedly on the rug in front of the hearth. Little Maggie went to sit with them and spent a long while happily scratching them behind the ears.

Jamie opened a bottle of port we had brought back with us from France and shared it around.

“Slainte mhath!” he toasted and we all chorus after him and drank. Cousin Jared really did sell good port.

After that we fell to talking, reminiscing over our happy memories and amusing stories from the past year. After all the anguish and heartbreak we had suffered in France, it was good to be reminded of pleasant memories we had from our time there and of the happiness that could be found in life.

“Wee Jamie learned this spring why it isna a good idea to chase the goslings,” Ian started with a twinkle in his eye. Jenny snorted in fond remembrance.

“Rabbie and Luke were chasing them too,” Jamie pouted, pointing accusingly at the little dog in question.

“Aye, they were,” Ian agreed, “but they could both run faster than you when the mother geese chased after ye. It’s usually only the slowest one that ends up getting bit.” Jamie and Murtagh chuckled at that and I gathered they’d both been on the wrong side of some foul-tempered birds in their own day. Wee Jamie looked rather displeased that we were laughing at his expense.

“Dinna fash yerself over it, lad,” Jamie said, taking pity on his nephew. “At least ye havena crossed that stubborn old donkey. I was limping for a week last time I was on the receiving end of one of his kicks.” Wee Jamie giggled at that and all was well again.

Time slipped by and the tales continued, the storytellers getting livelier and the stories getting more embellished the more port we consumed. At one point Jamie, Murtagh, and Fergus subjected us to a rousing rendition of some French drinking song they had all learned at Madame Elise’s. It was probably a good thing the small children hadn’t yet learned any French.

Before we knew it, the small clock on the mantle chimed nine. By that time the port was gone and Fergus and wee Jamie were yawning in their seats. Little Maggie had long since fallen asleep in front of the hearth, still propped up against Bran’s side. Jenny herded her children upstairs to bed, but Fergus protested that he wasn’t tired and should be allowed to stay up. Jamie relented easily, more than a little tipsy and in too good a mood to argue. I too had a pleasantly buzzing head, but I was trying to pace myself so I could walk straight when we went out later.

While Jenny was upstairs, Ian disappeared and returned with a bottle of scotch to continue the celebration. Jamie happily took a glass, as did Jenny when she returned. She settled down once more and the stories continued. Jamie regaled us all with the tale of our memorable first encounter with the Duverney, the minister of finance. 

“I didna ken who he was at the time and I didna care. I said to myself, ‘Jamie, lad, ye canna stand by idle and watch this French fool make such advances towards yer wife right in front of ye.’ So I threw him off the terrace and into the fountain.”  
At this Jenny completely dissolved into a fit of giggles. I looked at her, shocked. I had seen all sides of Jenny as I had come to know her; I had seen her kind and gentle with her children, stubborn and strong-headed in true Fraser fashion, and downright fierce with anyone who crossed her. Yet never had I seen such a display of unrestrained, undignified glee. I turned to Jamie for reassurance, but he seemed just as baffled by her reaction as I was.

“Have ye never seen a drunk woman before?” Ian asked, amused by our reactions.

“Aye, but never my sister,” Jamie said, his voice laced with confusion. “Is she always like this?”

“Not often,” he admitted with a wink. “But it’s always best to appreciate this side of her when ye get the chance.”

“She can still hear ye,” Jenny glowered when she had regained enough composure to speak. “And she’ll thank ye to stop talking about her like she’s not there.”

“Ah, there’s the Jenny we know,” Jamie teased. Her retaliatory threats were rather dampened in effect as she punctuated them with hiccups. 

0 0 0

By the time it was a quarter to midnight, Jenny had suffered from several more attacks of the giggles. Murtagh’s tirade about the failings of French fashion—“It’s completely ridiculous! Ye canna move yer arms, the whole thing scratches with embroidery, it’s all made of hideously colored silk! I’d go naked afore putting on such a ridiculous excuse for clothing ever again!”—set off a particularly prolonged fit of giggles that had us all laughing until our sides ached.

I was very comfortable and warm and pleasantly drunk where I sat pressed up against Jamie’s side. Fergus had finally lost his battle against sleep about an hour previously and now dozed with his head propped against my shoulder. With midnight rapidly approaching, I nudged him awake and watched him struggle back into wakefulness. Jenny let her two girls sleep but allowed wee Jamie to come back down and join us. Ian poured another round of drinks for us all to toast with.

When the clock finally chimed midnight, we all gave a cheer.

“To the New Year!” Jamie toasted. We all chimed in with choruses of “Happy New Year!” and “Slainte mhath!”, clinked our glasses, and drank. I eagerly awaited the tradition I thought we would all share, but it wasn’t forthcoming.

“Aren’t we all supposed to sing Auld Lang Syne now?” I asked finally.

“What, the poem?” Murtagh asked, his eyebrows quirked skeptically. Everyone else looked equally quizzical.

“I thought it was a Scots tradition to sing it for Hogmanay.” I was surprised. In my time, the whole English speaking world and beyond seemed to have taken the tradition to heart.

“We’ve all heard the poem afore,” Jamie mused. “It’s an old one. But I dinna think I’ve heard it as a song.”

“It goes something like this?” I hummed the first few bars.

“Oh, aye!” Ian said. “I think I ken the one ye mean. Never heard it paired with the poem though. But we can give it our best shot.” So Ian led us in singing the song. As it turned out, the tune was not quite the one used in modern day, and some of the words were different than the ones I was used to. I enjoyed hearing the older version.

“Now, off for first-footing,” Jamie announced happily.

“Who’s to be the first-foot then?” Jenny asked, eyeing Jamie skeptically.

“Oh.” He looked slightly crestfallen with realization.

“What’s the matter?”

“The first-foot is supposed to be a tall, dark stranger. Fair or red hair is bad luck,” he explained.

“Well I’m a tall, dark stranger,” I pointed out.

“Aye, but it’s also bad luck if it’s a woman,” Murtagh interjected.

“Well, Murtagh, it looks like you just volunteered yourself,” I retorted.

“I’m no’ headed back out into the cold,” he laughed, claiming the bottle of scotch from Ian and settling back into his armchair. “You two have fun though.”

“Ian?” Jamie asked desperately.

“You’re laird. You should go,” Ian declined. “Besides, my leg will thank me to stay out of the cold and I’ll be here with Jenny in case anyone drops by here.”

“How did you get around this in the past?” I asked.

“Our father had dark hair,” Jenny answered. “Jamie went with him, but Father was always the first one across the threshold. And Ian has gone the last few years.”

“What about me?” Fergus volunteered. We all turned to look at him.

“Well, yer no’ tall, exactly,” Jamie laughed, “but yer definitely a dark stranger. Ye’ll do nicely.”

And so it was decided. Before we set out, we collected several baskets of gifts to take with us. There was coal and salt and whiskey, as well as the shortbread and black buns Mrs. Crook had spent all day baking. Jamie explained that these were symbolic gifts brought by the first-foot to bring prosperity in the new year.

We headed out into the cold, the brisk wind bringing us thoroughly awake, and made our way to the first of the tenants’ cottages. When our knock at the door was answered, Fergus eagerly bounded across the threshold and started distributing the gifts. We were warmly welcomed and offered a dram of whiskey.

A short while later we headed back out to visit the next cottage and repeat the process. We were out a long time but it was pleasant to see everyone in high spirits. We were cheerily hailed by other visitors we passed on the road and at every place we stopped we were greeted happily and toasted with whiskey. We weren’t always the first visitors of the new year, but Jamie made sure to leave gifts at each place we stopped, taking the opportunity to make sure his tenants were faring well during the harsh winter months. He left extra coal and food where he felt it was especially needed. 

By the time we had finished our rounds and were headed home, hours had passed and Fergus was half asleep on his feet. Jamie and I were quite drunk after the multitude of toasts we had shared and were leaning on each other for support as we stumbled down the icy road. When we finally made it back to Lallybroch, Jamie did little more than struggle out of his boots before he was sprawled across our bed, still fully clothed and already snoring. I was quick to join him.

0 0 0

I woke the next morning with a monstrous hangover, the likes of which I hadn’t experienced in ages; it even rivaled the one I’d had on our wedding day. It took me several long moments to realize that I had been awoken by Jenny barging into our room with a bowl of water. Before I was fully aware of what was happening, she had sprinkled Jamie and me with the water, made sure our windows were firmly shut, and swept back out of the room.

“What was that all about?” I asked blearily, rolling over to look at Jamie. He looked about as terrible as I felt.

“Saining,” he mumbled. He tried to explain it to me as he hauled himself out of bed and started dressing—something about a blessing with special water from a special ford—but my head was pounding too much for me to really focus on his words. As soon as he left the room to go downstairs, I burrowed back in the blankets and fell back asleep.

When I awoke again some unknown amount of time later, it was to the much more alarming smell of smoke. Coughing and with my eyes watering, I fumbled my way into my dressing gown and hurried downstairs. The smoke was even thicker in the main rooms, yet strangely everyone seemed to be completely unperturbed by it.

“Jamie, what on earth is going on?” I demanded, rushing over.

“Dinna fash yerself, Sassenach,” he reassured me. “It’s just juniper smoke to get rid of all the wee bugs and vermin. It’ll clear out in just a bit.” True to his word, when Jenny deemed we were all coughing and wheezing sufficiently, she had us throw open all the doors and windows in the house so the smoke could be replaced with the clean, cold air from outside.

After the house had been shut up again and I had dressed and driven my hangover to the background with another glass or two of whiskey, I found myself curled up on the sofa with Jamie. Apparently it was traditional to take New Year’s Day off from work. I suspected it was so we could all recover from the previous night’s festivities. We were both enjoying the extra rest.

“Happy New Year, mo nighean donn,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I didn’t know what the future had in store for us. I worried that history play out as I knew it, that by the end of the year Scotland would march to war, that our entire world would be turned upside down in April of the following year. But I knew that if all this was destined to come to pass, I would make this year the happiest one I could make it.

“Happy New Year, Jamie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thank you all for your patience while waiting for me to update. Obviously time management isn't my strong suit when it comes to writing. Thanks also to everybody who sent me nice comments. They make me ridiculously happy. Again, I apologize for any inaccuracies in my writing. I'm American so I'm not familiar with the traditions but I tried to keep everything as accurate as possible based on my research. Thanks for reading and best wishes to all of you this year!

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas (a tad late, as ever)!! As always, these characters aren't my own. They belong to the brilliant Diana Gabaldon and are taken from her Outlander series and the Starz TV series based on it. I'm very new to the fandom and haven't read the books so I apologize for any inaccuracies. The show timeline doesn't seem to match up with the books so with lots of vague handwaving I have it set Christmas of 1744 after they come back from France and before the uprising. I researched as best as I could but I'm no expert on Scottish or English history, holidays, or religion, so I apologize if I got things wrong. If I can get my act together in time, I hope to do a second chapter of this for Hogmanay/New Years. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


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